Walking Into Sunshine
by xxannuhhtruelovexx
Summary: In aftermath of the confrontation between Ian and Mickey in 3x09 Mickey takes some time to think even though he absolutely hates what thoughts lead to.


After what happened, Mickey couldn't stop moving. He had to constantly keep himself occupied. Whether it was smoking down a pack of cigarrettes, chugging down a bottle of some liquor, or even just walking around town usually while doing all of the above. He had to stay busy or else his thoughts would betray him.  
Mickey hated being out of control. He so desperatley needed to be the one to decide what he would do, what would happen to him, and now especially how he feels.

Actually if he had his way feelings would be something that he would cut loose all together. All they did was make him weak, and weakness was something that Mickey Milkovich simply did not tolerate.

That's why Mickey was currently back in that old run down abandoned building, fifth of jack in hand, attempting to use the burn of the alcohol as it dribbled down his throat to stifle his thoughts. Thoughts led to feelings and he couldn't take the feelings of hurt, shame, disgust, and most of all a guilt that was ripping at his insides threatening to tear straight through and spill his guts all over the broken, dirty floor in front of him.

Toward the bottom of the bottle Mickey couldn't hide anymore. It seemed that his plan of forgetting back fired and actually had the complete opposite effect. With the alcohol running through his veins every little thing seemed intensified.

The boy who was forces to become a man much to early, a man that he never even imagined anyone wanting to be was suddenly overcome with his emotions. He felt the sting of tears start to swim in his blue eyes and he pictured red.

He saw Ian's red hair and his pale skin that contrasted so much with the blood that ran down his face. Mickey couldn't get the image of his Ian laying in the dirt, writhing from the physical and emotional pain that he had so blatantly caused. This was the boy Mickey tried so hard to forget, the boy who somehow weaseled his way into his head and heart without either if them even noticing. But, now, now after everything came crashing down around them, after Mickey had truly ruined his life and any chance of happiness he could have had, it was quite fucking obvious.

He stood and tossed the near empty bottle hoping the crash of the glass hitting the wall and breaking would be enough to rid him of Ian's voice. Of Ian's voice almost pleading for Mickey to admit he feels.

There they were again. God damn feelings. Mickey knows that to Ian that was a simple enough request. To love, to be so in love with another person, you tell them, it's that simple. But of course it isn't that simple. Not when you are a gay kid on the south side. Not when you have to constantly have to look over your shoulder, when you have to go through an entire thought process regarding your safety every time you want to touch or show anything close to affection.  
It's especially complicated when that damn red head smiles, when he smiles at Mickey with that smile that he knows is reserved for him and him only and the only thing that he can think about is how much he wants to kiss Ian. He wants to touch his lips to his, wants to taste him, and most of all wants to wipe that smile off of his face because it does things to Mickey that he refuses to acknowledge. But of course Mickey never does that. But as time went on his resolve to keep their relationship as strictly sex wasn't really working anymore.

So then Ian somehow started expecting things from Mickey. Expecting him to change, to be able to share how he feels. Maybe he fucked everything up by kissing him in the van at Ned's house, or by smiling just a bit to much when Ian spent the night.

Ian now expected him to declare his love, but what Ian doesn't understand is that Mickey himself doesn't even know how he feels exactly. He's pretty sure that everything Ian said was one hundred percent accurate, but what Ian will never get is that even if Mickey knew it's not that he won't share, it's that he can't.  
Admitting that he kind if sort, actually is completely unbelievably head over heels in love with Ian would only hurt them more. They could never be together, not really. Not the way that Mickey knows Ian wants, that he knows Ian deserves. Especially not with Terry knowing now.

Mickey stops his pacing and just stands still attempting to take deep breathes to calm himself. He hadn't realized that he had gotten so completely lost in his head that he had tears streaming unrelenting down his face and that he could hardly breathe.

When he finally seems to get control of himself he then quickly let the very familiar feeling of anger seep into his veins. He let it happen because anger was easier than heart break. He was angry at the fucking world he lived in, where he had to constantly battle himself.

As he began punching the wall and welcoming the pain that ran through his fists he let his anger loose on his father for ruining everything, and making him so damn scared that he would marry some whore. He let loose the anger to towards Ian for making him feel, for putting him in this situation in the first place. But in the end the hardest hot to the wall came when he let loose the anger and loathing he felt for himself.  
He hated that he had these feelings but that he was to much of a pussy to stand up to his father, his peers, and be brave like Ian. He hated that he couldn't be brave FOR Ian.

Now more than ever he wanted to. He wanted Ian to smile at him again, he wanted to make Ian happy, and didn't want to be so afraid of living anymore.  
Mickey ceased his own form of therapy and removed his bloody, throbbing fists from the walls and did something he never thought he would.  
Mickey smiled as he made a decision. He decided that he was going to do something for himself. Not something to please others to for survival. He was going to be purely selfish and go get what he wanted more than anything.

What he wanted was Ian Gallagher.

As he walked out of the broken down buildings that was falling down around him, he didn't miss the building being a perfect metaphor for his life. But, he wasn't going to stay there and rot like these walls. He was going to wall out into the sunshine and take control once more of his life, but for real this time.  
Maybe there was something to this thoughts and feelings shit after all.


End file.
